Poor Starling
by cousin D
Summary: Clarice is attacked and Hannibal comes to help.


These characters are not mine. Drat!  
Enjoy.  
  
POOR STARLING  
  
  
  
Dr. Hannibal Lecter opened his newspaper and was horrified at the sight that met his eyes.  
  
"Clarice." The whispered name escaped his lips.  
  
The headline of the paper read,  
  
FBI AGENT BRUTALLY RAPED AND BEATEN  
  
Under the heading was a large color picture of his dearest Clarice in a hospital bed. Her eyes were red and swollen shut. There were stitches from the top of her left eye down the middle of her cheek and her lips were swollen terribly. He could only guess what the rest of her body, covered by blankets, looked like.  
  
Dr. Lecter read the entire article, discovering that she was being moved to her home later today and out of the hospital. Apparently she was unable to pay for longer than one day's worth of care.  
  
Clarice was refusing to talk to the reporters (good for her) and the only information they had was that she'd been blinded with mace and she didn't know who attacked her.  
  
Dr. Lecter set his paper down on the coffee table and went to gather a few supplies he would need. True, this could be a trap by the FBI to catch him, but her seriously doubted that Clarice would be a part of something like that.  
  
  
CLARICE-  
  
They led her slowly up the steps of her home and Clarice stumbled over her own feet, even with the two policemen holding her arms for support. They helped her to her upstairs bed and assured her that they'd already searched the house and it was completely empty. They had also locked all the doors and windows.  
  
Clarice lay in her bed, trying not to think. If she thought then she would only remember...  
  
Walking alone had never been a problem for Clarice, even at night. Since her daddy had died, she had been self-reliant and strong. She'd had no choice.  
  
They attacked in the middle of the day with the noon day sun high overhead. In the parking lot of the FBI building, as she walked to her car, three men and one woman had attacked. Dragging her to the ground. Her clothes ripping...  
  
No! Clarice yelled at herself. Don't think about it. Anything else, what's for dinner? Who wrote Lord of the Rings? What time is it?  
  
Just don't think about it. Nothing can change what happened.  
  
Had they really locked all the doors and windows? The terrifying thought jumped into her mind and Clarice sat straight up, making her whole head throb. Every thing hurt, every inch of her body.  
  
Clarice stood up and felt her way to each window and door in her home. She tripped quite a good deal, causing her more pain, and made sure everything was locked.   
  
God! She'd never felt so...helpless.  
  
Finally, when she was sure she'd gotten everything that she could, Clarice stumbled back to the stairs so she could get back to bed. The doctors had given her painkillers that would make her sleep.  
  
Clarice let her hands guide her to the stair banister, but when she put her hand down, she didn't felt he usual wood. She felt leather. A glove.  
  
"Good evening, Clarice."  
  
Clarice staggered away, jerking her hand away.  
  
"Dr. Lecter? How ... how did you her in? Everything's locked."  
  
"Not quite, my dear. Your escorts neglected to check your cellar."   
  
That voice, soft and measured, came closer. It was a voice she well remembered from dreams and nightmares.  
  
Clarice wished she could stop shaking, but she couldn't think straight. She couldn't even see him! A psychopathic killer was locked in her home and she didn't know where he was. The worst part was that she was almost relieved he was here. At least she knew him. It could have been anyone in her basement. It could have been THEM. The ones who had...  
  
Strong hands grabbed her arms and a warm voice whispered close to her ear, "Just relax, Clarice."  
  
Suddenly, she was lifted off her feet and found herself in Dr. Lecter's strong arms. Instinctively, she put an arm over his shoulder to balance herself. Unfortunately, she couldn't quite stifle the groan of pain from the sudden movement.  
  
"Does it hurt? Let me help."  
  
Without waiting for and answer, Dr. Lecter carried her upstairs. Clarice had barely managed walking alone; there was no possibility that she could fight free of Hannibal Lecter's incredible strength.  
  
He lay her down on her bed and then started to talk in his almost hypnotic voice.  
  
"I'm here as a doctor, Clarice. You really should be in the hospital still. It's far to early for you to be walking around on your own."  
  
"I didn't have much of a choice." Her voice sounded oddly even and normal. She should have been more afraid. "I can't afford the insurance and, surprisingly, I really don't make all that much money. The doctor's say I'll be all right. There's nothing all that wrong with me." It was strangely easy to talk with him. It occurred to her that it shouldn't be this easy. He was a killer. A monster.  
  
Then she felt him start to unbutton her blouse.  
  
"Wait a minute!" Clarice cried and suddenly fought with him to keep her clothes. She'd never thought that he would do THIS, not after what she'd just gone through!  
  
Dr. Lecter stayed calm while he held her until her meager strength ran out. "I said I was here as a doctor, Clarice. I won't touch you in anyway that is disrespectful or inappropriate. I simply want to make sure that you are as fit as they say you are."  
  
Clarice decided that she could trust him, guardedly. He had never lied to her, why should he start now? What choice did she have? Clarice tried to relax her body and let him...examine her. It wasn't easy.  
  
  
Dr. Lecter-  
  
Dr. Lecter carefully undressed the most important person in his world. He was good to his word and kept his mind focused as if she were any other patient he was seeing.  
  
Her body had been brutalized. It was good that she couldn't see so she would be spared the sight of her bruises and the cuts that covered her. She had been lucky that no bones were broken.  
  
In addition to the stitches on her eye, there were also some on her throat and between her breasts. Obviously, a knife had been used.  
  
Dr. Lecter then went to the waistband of her skirt and her hands were instantly over his to prevent him from going further.  
  
Dr. Lecter waited patiently until she calmed enough to let him work and put her hands back at her side. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the sheets when he pulled her skirt off. He found it charming that her cheeks were bright red with embarrassment.   
  
"There's no need to be embarrassed." Dr. Lecter said softly to take her mind off what he was doing. "I was a medical doctor for some time and I know how to control myself." When she didn't answer he continued. "I was wondering why they took you home, Clarice. Didn't they think that your attackers would try to come back for you?" Dr. Lecter eased her legs apart to check on that particular... aspect of the crime. She had stitches down there, too. A knife again.  
  
"I've nowhere else to go."  
  
"What about a hotel? Surely, Jack Crawford would have gotten you a hotel room."  
  
"He's on vacation." She told him shortly and Hannibal didn't miss the fact that she hadn't told him were Jack Crawford was on vacation. She was such smart girl.  
  
Hannibal saw that Clarice was starting to bleed again at the stitches, so he let her legs close together and pulled the sheets over her now nude body. Hannibal went to her closets and rummaged through until he found an old, handmade quilt, which he laid over her.  
  
Then he sat by her side again and took her face in his hands. To her credit, Clarice didn't even flinch. "I just want to see your eyes."  
  
She moaned softly as he pulled the painful lids apart and looked into her eyes. Thankfully, it was only temporary. She would see just fine in a day or so.  
  
They sat together all day and Hannibal read to her. Clarice had told him that he could take anything from her small library, but he'd taken one look and completely dismissed the idea. She might enjoy wasting her mind, but that didn't mean he had to help her.  
  
Hannibal searched her house until, in the basement, he found a dusty copy of the Iliad. That would be suitable.  
  
The day passed and twilight came with Hannibal's voice still reading to her about Ulysses and the Trojan War. Then the phone rang and Hannibal set the book down on her bed to get it. He returned after a minute and guided her hand to the phone he had brought to her.  
  
Clarice paused a moment before answering. "How do you know I won't turn you in?"  
  
"Because I know you, Clarice."  
  
Clarice picked up the receiver. "Hello, Starling residence."  
  
"Clarice? This is Dr. Junos at the Hospital. I don't know how much you remember from your stay, but I was the one in charge of your treatment."  
  
"Yes, sir, I remember you. How can I help you?"  
  
The man hesitated on the other end and Clarice got worried. This couldn't mean anything good.  
  
"Ms. Starling, we have back some of the test results that we took from your attack. In one of the blood tests we found something that may disturb you. Is there anyway you can come back to the hospital to talk with us? This is something we would rather discuss in person."  
  
"We?" Clarice was now very worried. God, what had happened to her?  
  
"Yes, myself and the hospital psychiatrist."  
  
"Sir, why do you think I'd need a psychiatrist other than the fact I've just been raped and nearly beaten to death. Just tell me, please."  
  
"Come to the hospital, Ms. Starling. Bring a family member or a close friend if you have one." Dr. Junos hung up the phone, refusing to tell her anything else.  
  
Clarice sat in her bed, holding the phone loosely. Her mind felt numb. AIDS. She just knew it was AIDS. She was going to die. Those punks had given her AIDS.  
  
Tears began to fall and Clarice dropped the phone onto her lap. She felt warm arms around her as she sobbed and the back of her mind told her that it was Dr. Lecter. She didn't care. All that mattered was that someone strong and calm was holding her.  
  
Finally when she'd stopped crying, Clarice spoke to Dr. Lecter in a now hoarse voice. "I have to go to the hospital again. They found some test result that was disturbing them. I'll have to call or cab or see if someone from work can give me a lift."  
  
"That won't be necessary, Clarice." He reassured her. "I'll take you."  
  
Clarice almost laughed. "You? Don't you think that's a little foolish, Dr. Lecter? You're still a very well known man."  
  
"I'm flattered, but I shall be quite surprised if anyone recognizes me. I've not come looking like myself."  
  
Clarice frowned. "What do you mean?"  
  
Dr. Lecter put a hand to his face. It was new; slightly similar to his old one, but enough of a difference that no one would recognize him unless they studied him for a time and knew what they were looking for. "Let me worry about myself, Clarice. Now, let's find something nice for you to wear to the hospital." And Clarice heard her wardrobe open and the sound of rustling clothes.   
  
  
They arrived at the hospital twenty minutes after they had called Clarice. Hannibal had helped her to get dressed and driven her in his car. She was silent the whole way there and Dr. Lecter didn't ask for any information.   
  
He helped her out of the car, like any gentleman would, and guided her into the main entrance, holding her by the arm.  
  
When Dr. Junos came out to meet them he took them to a private room, but Dr. Lecter told him that the psychiatrist wouldn't be needed. HE would make sure Clarice was all right.  
  
"And you are?" Dr. Junos asked, curious.  
  
Dr. Lector smiled politely. "Julius Troy. I'm a dear friend of Ms. Starling's."  
  
"Well, I suppose that's all right. Ms. Starling, I'm afraid that there was an...after effect of the attack. We only just found out with the blood tests."  
  
Clarice spoke up, her voice shaking slightly. "Tell me, is it AIDS?"  
  
"AIDS? No, nothing like that at all. Ms. Starling, you're pregnant."  
  
Clarice fainted dead away in Hannibal Lector's arms.  
  
  
  
  
  
Clarice woke quickly from her faint. She'd never fainted in her life and she didn't like the lightheaded, weightless feeling that filled her head. She felt a warm hand holding hers tightly and she immediately knew it was Dr. Lecter. He had a certain feeling to his skin. A texture that was unique. She had first felt it that day in Memphis when he'd caressed her finger for a fraction of a second.  
  
"Clarice?" He said in his soft, velvet voice. "Are you all right?"   
  
"Yes." Her voice sounded hoarse even to her as she tried to think straight. It wasn't possible for a moment. All she could think of was the word: pregnant. A child.  
  
God, she wasn't the mothering type. How could she raise a child? Clarice closed her eyes and calmed herself as the doctors said something. She didn't hear. It was more important to make herself think properly.   
  
"Ms. Starling?" He was talking again. "Ms. Starling, we have counselor if you'd like to talk with someone about all this. We all know how difficult this must be for you."  
  
"Do you really?" Dr. Lecter was talking now; his thumb was rubbing the back of her hand gently. "I think Clarice would like to go home now. She doesn't need your counselors." Clarice felt a slightly pull on her hand and she stood in mute obedience. She didn't know what else to do. She really didn't want to stay and tell some stranger what she was feeling. She didn't understand it all herself, yet.  
  
"Now wait." The tense voice of the doctor sounded like he was standing also. Clarice could here his voice raise to her level. "I don't think you fully understand what's going on. Ms. Starling really should make this decision herself."  
  
Oh, dear. Clarice realized she would have to take care of this or the doctor might get suspicious.  
  
"Julius is just trying to take care of me." She awkwardly took Dr. Lecter's arm, possessively. "He's right. I just want to go home and go to bed. I need some rest."   
  
"Ah," The doctor said. "Yes, I understand." Clarice suddenly got the feeling that he'd gotten the wrong message. She hadn't meant it like that. "Call us if you need a professional to talk to, Ms. Starling."   
  
He drove her home and it was during the drive that Clarice felt her vision starting to come back. The light began to filter through her eyelids and she tried to open them. Nothing happened. Nothing changed.  
  
"Don't worry." Dr. Lecter assured her. "Your sight will come back shortly. Most likely in the morning."  
  
Clarice changed the subject. Her sight, at the moment, was the least of her problems. Her biggest problem, she didn't want to think about right now. "Aren't you worried that you're going to get caught? I'll have the police coming to my house soon, to check on me."  
  
He chuckled softly. "The local police are handling your case. I don't think they're overly worried about me. I've been missing for five years and I'm reputedly in France. I think that's what the papers are saying now."  
  
"Have you really been in France?"  
  
"That would be telling. Just rest your eyes."  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Back at Clarice's home, Hannibal Lecter put her to bed and read to her until he was certain she was asleep and then went down stairs to the kitchen. She would be hungry soon.  
  
The kitchen was woefully empty. Hannibal was disappointed to find nothing but old fast food carton, half a loaf of bread and some bologna in the refrigerator. He sighed and frowned. How was he supposed to make her something decent with nothing in the house? What did she eat, bologna sandwiches all day? She couldn't possibly just order pizza and Chinese food.  
  
Dr. Lecter's ears perked up when he heard the back door crack open and his excellent ears picked up faint voices and several sets of feet.  
  
"Are you sure she's here?"  
  
"Damn straight. The bitch is still here, and I thought we'd killed her in the parking lot."  
  
Someone laughed. "We'll just have to try harder this time. I wonder if she'll scream again."  
  
Dr. Lecter smiled, his teeth gleaming in the kitchen light. Maybe he could fix Clarice a little something to eat after all. She'd never tried his specialty before.  
  
Hannibal opened Clarice's kitchen drawers until he found what he was looking for. The knife drawer was basically empty except for two butter knives and one long, shining butcher knife. He picked up the butcher knife and ran a professional finger down the edge to determine if it was adequate to the job. Yes, perfectly suitable.  
  
Dr. Lecter quickly looked up the stairs to see that Clarice's bedroom door was still closed and then went to where the voices were coming through the house. Hannibal certainly didn't want to wake her; she needed her rest.  
  
He wondered if the trunk of his car would fit three bodies or just two.  
  
  
Clarice-  
  
  
Clarice woke to the smell of something wonderful filling her nose. It made her mouth water.  
  
"Glad to see you wake, Clarice." The familiar voice came to her. It seemed like he'd been in her home for years instead of two days. "I've made dinner for you. I do hope you like it."  
  
Clarice realized she could see a little better now. The faint light she'd been seeing earlier was beginning to focus into shapes and shadows. She just knew that soon it would all be back and she would be as good as before. She would be in control.  
  
A warm plate was put into her lap and Clarice pushed herself to sit up in the bed. A fork and a steak knife was passed to her and Clarice ate as best as she could. It wasn't easy, but she didn't want to ask Dr. Lecter for more help than she had to.  
  
The meal was delicious. Better than even her friend, Matt, ever made. Matt was a terrific cook and Starling was, at best, laughable. She was more used to donuts on the run or cold cereal from a box. She couldn't even tell what this meal was; it was so heavily spiced and perfectly seasoned.  
  
Clarice was about to put the fifth fork full in her mouth when she paused. A dreadful thought occurred to her. But...no. He wouldn't dare to venture out of the house to look for his favored food. Would he?  
  
"Dr. Lecter?" She said hesitantly. "Where did you get the food? I'm sure I didn't have anything like this in my freezer."  
  
"No, my dear, you didn't. You really should stock better. I found nothing but junk in your kitchen."  
  
"Then where did you get..."  
  
"I just found some things laying around." He told her in a calmly. The answer was vague and Clarice knew it would stay that way. She would get no answers out of him about where the meal had come from.  
  
"Just tell me if I should worry about this."  
  
There was no answer for a moment when Dr. Lecter said. "No. There is nothing for you to worry about."   
  
Clarice slowly raised the tender meat to her lips and swallowed it. It really was very good.   
  
  
Dr. Lecter-  
  
She is so beautiful. Her eyes are healing very quickly. Faster than I'd first thought they would. I can see her blinking at my moves, trying to follow them. Now that that little worry is behind us, Clarice has a far more important health concern to think about. Something she hasn't been able or inclined to talk about yet.  
  
Best to just say it. "Are you planning to keep the baby?"  
  
Clarice froze and set the fork down on her nearly empty plate. I'm glad she liked the steak. Even if it is of a different variety than she's used to. She turned her face to the window as if she could see the moonlight shining in onto her lovely face. Does she know how it makes her skin so pale? How the light illuminates her eyes?  
  
"I...I don't know. I never really thought I would make a good mother."  
  
The doorbell rang down stairs and Clarice swung her legs out of bed, I think she was grateful for an excuse to get out of the conversation. Even if it was only for now. I won't let her get way that easily.  
  
"I'll be right back." She told me and when I took her arm to help her down the stairs, she pulled free of me. "I can see well enough to make it down my own stairs. You'd best stay up here, it might be the police." She didn't want to feel helpless. Completely understandable, however misguided it was. As if I was going to let her alone, blind and feeling vulnerable as she was.  
  
I followed her downstairs, quietly and at enough of a distance that she couldn't hear me. I could wash up the kitchen while she talked to her visitor. No sense in letting the dishes pile up. Besides that, it might disturb her to find a human femur on her counter.   
  
Clarice was talking to her visitor in the doorway and with the adjacent door open; I could hear their every word. Clarice didn't sound happy.  
  
"Get out of here, Dillan. You shouldn't be here."  
  
"Get over yourself, Clarice. I have a right to know. Are you going to keep the baby?"  
  
Now this was interesting. How had this person found out so quickly about the baby? Clarice had only been told a few hours ago. Dr. Lecter paused and looked up slightly, deep in thought. She couldn't be pregnant from the rape. It wasn't possible for them to tell only hours after it had happened. I put down the dishrag and went to the doorway to be able to hear better.  
  
Apparently, Clarice wasn't wondering the same thing I was. "It's none of your business! You all ready said you don't want it."  
  
"Tell me what you're planning to do." I don't think I like this Dillan's tone. Dillan, whoever he was, moved further into the house and I could hear him walking in the living room without being invited. What dreadful manners. "You're practically blind, Clari. You don't want to upset me."  
  
I can't help myself. I leaned closer and peer around the corner so I could see both Clarice and her visitor. Clarice is feeling her way slowly, one hand constantly on the wall as she faces what direction she thinks her visitor is in.  
  
The living room is dark as it is close to eight o'clock at night and the lights haven't been turned on. In the darkness, Clarice's still weak eyes won't be able to see anything, not even the shadows.  
  
The man is tall, perhaps 6'4" or a little taller, but not much. He has long, dark hair to his shoulders and has an artificial tan, by the smell of him. The tanning lotion is so strong; it nearly over powers the smell of his hairspray. I defiantly don't like this man.  
  
Clarice is trying to muster her confidant attitude, though she can barely see her opponent. "What makes you think you're the father?" She sneered at him.  
  
"What are you doing, Clarice? Telling everyone that the baby's father was one of the rapists? That's not true and you know it." He stepped close and, in the dim light of the living room, was less than a foot from her and Clarice didn't know it. "And as long as I've known you, you don't lie."  
  
My hands itched for his throat. He obviously worked on his body, but the neck was ridiculously weak. It would be very easy to wrap my hands around it and...  
  
"I haven't told anyone anything, yet. Get out, Dillan. I don't want you here. I won't tell anyone you're even involved with it."  
  
She was afraid of him. Her voice showed it and so did the way she jumped when he spoke and she realized how close he was to her.  
  
"Don't act like this, Clarice. You remember what happened last time." His voice was threatening and if I wasn't so irritated with him, I might have laughed. I don't think he knows what he's up against. Me.  
  
"Clarice?" I stepped out of the kitchen and flipped the lights on, giving Clarice a better idea of her surroundings. "Is something wrong?"  
  
Dillan scowled at my smile and I as I dried the bright yellow latex gloves on the apron I was wearing. "Who are you?"   
  
I held out a hand, "Julius Troy, pleased to meet you."   
  
Dillan just looked at my hand as if he'd never shaken hands before, and, frankly, it wouldn't have surprised me. "What, are you sleeping around now, Clari? With some old man who's old enough to be your father?" The man's voice was filled with acid.  
  
Clarice narrowed her eyes. "Don't call me Clari. You know I hate it."  
  
"That's why I call you that. Did you tell him that you're carrying another man's child?" He leered at me, thinking to horrify or embarrass an old girlfriend, or whatever Clarice was to him. Clarice didn't flinch from him.  
  
I smiled, showing my teeth. "I don't think I like your manner, young man. This isn't how a gentleman acts in a lady's home."  
  
He laughed and I saw his teeth were perfect. To perfect to be natural, he must have had surgery. "Clari is no lady."  
  
Clarice did something I really didn't expect then. She suddenly reached into an open drawer next to her and pulled out a large gun. It looked too big for her hands, but she knew how to use it by the way she was holding it. She aimed directly at Dillan.  
  
"Get out of my home. You will not raise my child so get those thoughts out of your head." Her voice was at a dangerous point. I knew she would shoot if this person pushed her too much further.  
  
"Raise your brat? Not likely. I have a wife and two kids of my own. I also have a political career to think about. What I want is for you to have an abortion."  
  
"What? A wife? Children?" She sounded shocked. "You said you were single."  
  
"Kill the thing, Clari. I don't ever want to hear about this again. If my wife finds out I was with another woman, she'd have it in all the papers. Get rid of it." Dillan straighten his tie, not at all concerned with her stunned reaction or the gun in her hands.   
  
Clarice cocked the hammer of the gun, sending a loud 'click' through the room. "Get out of my home." She repeated through gritted teeth. For the first time, Dillan looked afraid and he had every right to be. Clarice would shoot.  
  
Dillan edged past her and ran out of the house, shouting over his shoulder. "Do it, Clari. I'll do it for you, if I have to. I won't let that little accident ruin my life. Next time I won't employ such amateurs."  
  
I grabbed the taller man by the throat and he stopped dead in his tracks. "What did you say?" I asked calmly. "Did you say something about employees?"  
  
He looked up, shocked that someone had grabbed him and then turned angry. "Let me go." He hissed through his throat where I was letting only a bit of oxygen through."  
  
"What's going on?" Clarice demanded. She couldn't see well enough to tell what was going on. "What's happening?"  
  
"Nothing to worry about, my dear. Just let me handle this, won't you?" I looked back at Dillan who was trying to wrestle out of me hands. He wasn't nearly strong enough. "You hired those creatures to attack Clarice, didn't you?"  
  
He didn't answer, but struggled until I squeezed harder. He began nodding.  
  
"What a strange thing." I commented. "Any sane man would have stayed with his wife, if he were so afraid of her. Or at least have the decency to divorce her. You choose to go with another woman, lie about your life, then try to murder your own child by hiring a gang of rapists to kill the mother. I could have a fun time devouring your mind." I wasn't talking about psychology.  
  
I saw Clarice take a step toward us. "You? Dillan, you tried to kill my baby?" Her gun hand was shaking dangerously.  
  
Dillan nodded, but since Clarice couldn't see this, I answered for him. "Yes, Clarice. He said he did it. What do you want to do about it?"  
  
"Help me, Dr. Lecter. I can't do this on my own." She was trying to aim at the gasping man. I let him go and went to her. I pulled the butcher knife out of my apron that I had used earlier.  
  
It slid easily into Dillan's heart and he looked at me in surprise before he hit the floor with a dull thump. His blood was on the carpet. Then I pressed the knife into Clarice's hand and made sure her prints were all over it. I was still wearing the rubber gloves for washing the dishes.  
  
"Just tell the police it was self-defense. They have no reason to disbelieve you if you tell the truth about your pregnancy. Call them now so no one will get suspicious."  
  
"What about you?" She fingered the knife uneasily with one hand and the gun with her other.  
  
"I still have to wash up the kitchen." Clarice hunted for the phone and then dutifully called the local police. They assured her someone would be right over.  
  
When that was done Clarice dropped the two weapons and hugged herself. With a sob, she let herself fall to the floor weeping. The stress was finally getting to her and this was how I found her after cleaning her kitchen. She had to talk about this.  
  
"How did it happen?" I asked.   
  
Clarice shrugged. "I thought I was in love. Guess, I was wrong. I made a mistake and this is what happened." She wiped tears off her face.  
  
"Are you sure the child is his?"  
  
"Yeah. Has to be. I was a virgin before him. Damn. I can't believe I gave it up to him."  
  
She stood and felt her way to the couch and slumped down on it. I stood behind her and rubbed her shoulders gently until she started to relax. Then I leaned over her shoulder and whispered into her ear. "Have you decided if you'll keep the child or not?"  
  
Clarice touched her belly where there was not a hint of pregnancy, yet. "It's part my child, too. I...I want my baby." She sounded surprised at this revelation. "I want it."  
  
I put my hand on hers. "Then keep it. You will be a marvelous mother, Clarice."  
  
She looked up at me and said, "I hope you're right."  
  
At this moment, with their faces less than an inch apart the police sirens screamed onto the street and Hannibal kissed her on the cheek softly.  
  
"Call me if you need me." Then I left out the back. My car was parked out there with the leftovers from dinner. There was absolutely nothing in her home to link me to the deaths or endanger Clarice's reputation.  
  
  
Clarice-  
  
I followed him to the back door as I heard the front door crash in with the police barging in. My sight was good enough that I saw blurry taillights vanish into the foggy night.  
  
  
END  



End file.
